


Broken Machine.

by rubyrosettared



Category: Captain America, Captain America (Movies)
Genre: A series of one shots, AU Fic, Bucky with a baby, F/M, Gen, maybe a little bit of smut here and there, non iw compliant, protector bucky, recovering bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-06-30 18:44:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15757530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubyrosettared/pseuds/rubyrosettared
Summary: A compilation of one shots continuing on from 'There's Nobody Praying For Me' and 'Coda'. Bucky and Alex navigate their way through their burgeoning relationship.





	1. Kiss

**Kiss.**

The loud purr of the motorbike is the only sound that fills the air this late at night. Bucky smiles softly to himself as he navigates the roads, feeling the cool silky air brush against his skin, how the breeze tugs his hair away from his face. Traffic is light, easy to navigate. He’s aware of Alex behind him, her arms wrapped tightly around his upper body, holding on. She seems comfortable on the bike, leaning in with each corner he has to negotiate, careful not to distract him whilst he drives though if he’s to be honest, he’s distracted plenty just by the feel of her pressed up against his back.

They turn onto the street where her bar is located, pulling up smoothly outside of it. Bucky kills the engine and the silence is sudden. He looks over his shoulder as Alex lets go of him and climbs off the bike. He kicks the stand into place and does likewise, turning to look at her again, seeing her remove the helmet, pulling her braid from the back of her jacket. She looks at him and she smiles.

“You okay?” he asks and she just nods.

“First time on a bike can be weird if you’re not used to it,” he tells her, noticing how her knees can’t quite hold her weight and he sees her smile some more, briefly glancing down at her feet.

“It was fine, fun. I’m sure I’ll get used to it quickly enough.”

Bucky lifts both eyebrows in surprise. “You wanna ride again?” he asks, slightly incredulous and sees her smile widen, a grin appear.

“With you? Absolutely. I might even get you to teach me how to ride one of these things one day,” she answers and he looks at the gleaming black and chrome machine and somehow can’t really imagine her in control of such a beast but stranger things have happened and he has no doubt she’ll be able to do anything she puts her mind to. He looks back at her.

“Maybe I will,” he murmurs.

For a moment they just stare at each other before Alex blinks. Bucky watches as she puts the helmet on the back of the bike, fastening it securely and once she’s done, she approaches him, looking into his eyes.

“You gonna walk me to my door Sergeant?” she enquires in a soft voice and Bucky blinks at the use of his old army rank.

“Does it bring back bad memories?” she continues as if realising that it possibly could and after a second he just shakes his head.

“Uh…no. It’s just been a while,” he quietly confesses.

“I won’t use it again if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“Didn’t say it made me uncomfortable, just that it’s been a while and its fine.” He seems to give pause. “I like how you say it.”

Her eyes light up a little. “Yeah?”

His eyes drop to her mouth. “Yeah,” he whispers, his voice roughening a little. He reaches for her hand, sliding the fingers of his right hand through hers. “And I’ll walk you to your door,” he continues.

* * *

 

He watches her as she unzips her jacket pocket and takes out a key ring, sees her slot the key into the right hole and twist it. Pushes open the door and as she does she looks at him. She can feel him pressed up against her, warm and vital, their fingers still entwined. She then tugs him inside, the suddenness of her movement giving her momentum as he stumbles slightly across the threshold and into the empty bar.

“I need to switch off the alarm before it wakes up the whole neighbourhood,” she tells him, letting go of his hand and he watches her disappear into the shadows. Can hear a quiet bleep that seems to become more rapid as time progresses and he braces himself for the loud blare that’s surely to follow. It doesn’t happen and he turns his head and sees Alex reappear, her skin pale in the shadows, easy to see, easy to find. She smiles at him, takes his hand once more.

“Want some coffee?” she asks, drawing him further into the cavernous room. He’s not used to seeing it so empty and silent, in shadow with no music playing in the background or sounds of life going on. Something prickles down the back of his neck and instinct makes him frowns slightly against the unease it creates. Light from the kitchen slithers into the bar and his gaze flicks to it and then back to her once more

“It’s late…I should be…” He uses a thumb to indicate the closed door behind him and sees the brief flash of disappointment that crosses her face.

“And if I drink coffee at this hour then I won’t sleep tonight,” he tells her, not that he really sleeps well to begin with but he tries to avoid caffeine this late. Feels her let go of his hand and she takes a half step back.

“Oh. Of course.”

He feels her disconnect keenly and quietly sighs as he goes to physically breach the gap between them.

“I thought… I tried to explain, I thought you understood…” Words fade away as he looks into her eyes.

“I do. I’m sorry, I’m the one who overstepped this time. You need to get used to the idea of there being an us and here I am rushing you. I’m sorry. It’s just that…I want to see you, spend time with you,” she confesses, keeping her voice low. Sees the faint frown that comes and goes.

“This isn’t your fault Alex, I just need time that’s all…I want everything that you want, believe me but the way I’m wired, the way that I am… I just need…time.”  And her understanding. He desperately wants her to understand.

She hears the frustration in his voice and she lifts a hand and gently touches his cheek, feeling the scrape of stubble against the palm of her hand.

“It’s fine Bucky, it really is. Take all the time that you need.” Her voice lowers to a whisper and he just stares at her as if gauging whether to believe her or not. Then he lowers his head and he gently kisses her. His lips brush softly against hers at first and her eyes slide shut at the contact, feeling her heart begin to thump in her chest. She feels an arm slide around her waist and anchor her up against him and at the same time he deepens the embrace and the hand that cradles his cheek slides down to his shoulder and then slips around his neck as her lips part beneath his. For a moment there’s silence, apart from the sound of their kiss. She feels her heartbeat rev up, her stomach dip and her centre begin to pulse and throb as she presses herself up against the long length of his body.  She hears him quietly groan, his right hand touching her cheek, fingertips stroking the soft skin there. Finally he pulls back and he’s breathing heavier, that slight frown back between his eyes but he doesn’t let go of her.

She’s breathing just as heavily, her body throbbing still. With every part of her being she wants to invite him upstairs, to take this further but he’s not ready. Already she can see a slice of the wildness he’s previously hinted at in his slate blue eyes. Instead she slides both of her arms around his neck and hugs him to her and his other arm slides around her waist to lock her in further and she can hear his ragged breathing against her ear, she can feel his reaction to her, he’s absolutely rock hard and she can imagine that he’s struggling to process that more than anything else. He holds her close nonetheless, his face turning into the side of her neck and they stay like that for a moment or two and gradually their breathing calms, their pulses settle. She braces her hands on his shoulders and draws back a little to look at him. His eyes are somewhat calmer now.

“Everything okay?” she enquires, keeping her voice low. He slowly nods and then let’s go of her.

“I’d better get going.” Once more he indicates the door behind him and she nods, stepping out of his embrace.

“Can I come by tomorrow?” he asks.

Alex nods.

“Maybe we can do something? Go out for coffee?” he suggests, the tone of his voice a little on the hesitant side and she realises how much courage it takes him to ask her this. She dimples a soft smile his way.

“I’d like that,” she answers softly and sees his gentle smile in response.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then…what time would be good for you?” he asks.

Alex shrugs, feeling her pulse flutter a little at the thought of spending time with him, even just over a cup of coffee.

“Any time,” she replies, sounding a little breathless again.

“Say, three o’clock then, once the lunch crowd has died down a little?” he suggests and she nods.

“Three is fine,” she confirms and once again he smiles, one of faint satisfaction.

“I’ll see you then,” he promises and turns.

Alex takes a slow deep breath and quietly exhales as she watches him walk away from her, out of the bar and to his bike.

Baby steps, she reminds herself.

 

 


	2. Thunderstorm.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky shows up for their date and he makes a confession.

**Thunderstorm.**

She sits in the bar and waits for him to arrive.

She tries not to show how nervous she’s feeling but her heart thrums in her chest all the same as she sits with Callum for company and tries not to scrutinise every single soul that passes by the window. The bar is quieter now, the lunch crowd been and gone with only a few of their regulars in residence. It’ll fill up again in time for the end of the work day and even then Callum has told her not to hurry back, that he has everything in hand to cover for her.

Will he show up? She’s not completely sure that he will if she’s to be brutally honest. A part of her expects Steve to show up instead with another excuse. The whole reason why she went to the complex the day before was because Steve persuaded her to, made her understand Bucky’s whole reason for not showing up after the mission as he originally promised to do.  Sat over a cup of coffee in the kitchen and explained those reasons to her, why he wasn’t able to sit here in his place and tell her himself.

That he was afraid and didn’t think he was worth a moment of her time.

“You okay?” Callum’s voice is low and concerned and she looks at him. Her answering smile is faint. “He’ll show,” he tacks on as if reading her mind and this time Alex shrugs. Remembers the kiss she shared with Bucky in the bar late last night and how it made her feel. Still makes her feel. She didn’t get a lot of sleep last night just thinking about him.

She hopes the kiss hasn’t scared him off for good this time.

“Maybe,” she concedes. She won’t let herself get her hopes up. The last time she did that, he disappeared for five days.

“Yeah he will,” Callum tells her and she looks into his eyes again when she hears the subtle change of tone and sees the half-smile on his face, a knowing half smile and he glances over her shoulder and she turns her head.

Bucky stands in the doorway.

He’s in jeans, a t-shirt with an unbuttoned plaid shirt over it, his baseball cap on his head. Sunshine pours around him, throwing him into shadow.

Alex’s smile broadens into a grin as she slides off the stool and grabs her jacket and purse and she heads towards him.

Bucky watches her approach him and she sees how his eyes are slightly wide, as if he’s not quite able to believe that he’s here or that she’s there in front of him. She takes his right hand in her left, sliding her fingers through his.

“Hey. You made it,” she breathes and for a moment he just stares at her.

“I wasn’t sure if I was gonna,” he confesses and his brow wrinkles in a frown as if thinking perhaps he shouldn’t have said that out loud. She squeezes his fingers and he glances down at their joined hands. She goes to let go but he holds on and she’s still.

“But you did.”

A gentle smile softens his face. “I did,” he murmurs to her.

“Then let’s go,” she tells him and he allows her to lead him out of the bar.

* * *

 

The mid afternoon sun blazes down on them as they head away from the bar and for a moment or two neither of them speak.

“Where do you wanna to go?” Bucky asks her as they pause at an intersection. He takes in his surroundings, keeping half an eye on the pedestrians who mill around them and past them. He looks at her when he feels her squeeze his fingers again.

“I have the rest of the afternoon so why don’t we just walk? I don’t often get to do this, while away an afternoon.”

His eyes scan her face for a second.

“Sounds like a plan. Kinda,” he answers with a faint smile.

“The kinda plans are usually the best ones,” she whispers.

* * *

 

They pick up coffee to go at a small independent coffee shop near to a park. She sits on a stool by the window and watches him approach the barista and make his requests and wait patiently while they’re made up. She sees how he attempts to make small talk as he waits, his smile gentle, even breaking out in a grin once or twice as he pays for both drinks and takes his change. She slides off the stool as he approaches her, hands her her one of the colourful sturdy paper cups with a smile and together they head out. It’s too nice a day to be cooped up indoors.

They head into the park, fingers linked loosely together, their cups in their other hands. They still don’t talk all that much, don’t feel the need to, not really. There are a few people milling around, taking advantage of the clement weather and Alex pays them little attention as they wander by but she knows that Bucky will be. He’s watchful, cautious and it’s a habit he’ll probably never really break.

* * *

 

They sit together on a patch of sloping grass overlooking a huge lake. The surface of the water glitters beneath the light, rippled by a gentle breeze. Alex sips at her coffee and doesn’t offer anything by means of conversation, noticing the pensive expression on Bucky’s face as he stares out across the water, realising that he’s enjoying the peace. He’s taken off his baseball cap and she watches the breeze play with his hair.

“I don’t like thunderstorms.”

It comes completely out of left field and Alex blinks.

“What?”

He turns his head and he looks at her.  “I don’t like thunderstorms,” he repeats. Alex wonders what she’s supposed to say to that.

“Okay.”  Watches him slowly turn his head back to stare out across the water again and he draws his knees up and loops his arms around them, the coffee cup hanging loosely between both hands.

“I mean I used to. My mom used to open all the windows in the apartment when a storm was brewin’,  used to drive my dad crazy because the rain would get in, soak the drapes, leave puddles on the floor but she ignored him and kept opening those damned windows. I used to find it…exciting I guess.” He slowly shakes his head at the memory.

“It’s kinda strange, I’m beginning to remember bits and pieces about my life; before joinin’ up, before the War, before…” His voice trails away and he glances down at the patch of grass between his legs and doesn’t go on but she knows what he means. Before the Winter Soldier.

“But I still can’t remember what my mom looked like.” His voice is quiet and regretful.

“Maybe you will one day,” Alex responds and moves closer to him so that their shoulders are pressed together. Bucky turns his head back in her direction and a faint smile crosses his face.

“Maybe,” he concedes.

“The day we met, it was thundering. It was one of the reasons why I offered you a place to stay.”

“I remember,” he replies huskily.

They just look at each other as they remember; she found him slumped between two dumpsters, soaked by the rain, bruised, in pain from a dislocated shoulder and confused by a short circuiting unreliable memory. Leaving him there just hadn’t been an option for her.

“It was after that though. When I was in New York, a thunderstorm woke me up and I didn’t know what the hell was going on, what was happening. I was screamin’ so loud that my neighbours thought I was bein’ murdered. Nearly called the cops.”

Remembers coming to in the corner of the wreckage of his poky little room, hiding behind an upturned mattress, shaking, eyes wet, throat raw. Terrified. People hammering on his door, almost busting it off its hinges. It took him a little while to gather his wits and enough courage to open it and reassure his neighbours that he was okay, even though he wasn’t.

He watches Alex’s eyes widen in sympathy.

“So what do you do now when it storms?”

“Keep myself busy, work out in the gym, listen to music through my headphones. I have black out blinds in my room at the New York complex now so that helps. Steve keeps me company if it’s a really bad one.”

He needs to arrange to have blinds fitted in his room here if he and Alex are going to start spending time together and he sticks around in Washington as he hopes.

“Why do you think you have such a visceral reaction to them now? Do you think it’s got something to do with what you went through?”

She holds her breath, wondering if he’s going to answer her. His gaze holds onto hers for a moment and then he just nods.

“Probably.”

Once more he looks away from her, squinting against the sunshine, the sparkles on the lake water.

“When I was under…when I was… _him_ …” he begins and his voice falters. Alex remains quiet, still and just watches him, seeing that tiny frown that mars his brow.

“I remember parts of the control protocol Hydra used; the chair, the restraints, the sounds, the _noise_.” His voice, already low to begin with, begins to fade away as he does just that.

He can still hear the sparking and crackling noise the headset made as it got close enough to him, the memory vivid enough still to make him break out in a cold sweat and he barely suppresses a shiver right now, a warm spring day.

“When I was… _that_ guy… what Hydra did to me…what I don’t think they fully realised is that a tiny piece of me, the old me was kinda… aware, was _awake_ somehow. Some part of me was in there, almost like a passenger in my own body, a spectator. I have memories but they’re brief, fleeting, like camera flashes and I’m not really sure if they happened or not.”  His voice is still low but tight. Jaw tense, shoulders too. He looks back in her direction and she sees the naked pain in those eyes of his and something twists in her own chest at the sight of it.

“I know that I did… was forced to do…awful…unforgivable… things… but if I tried to break free…emotionally then they… would punish me… and wipe me, over and over. Sometimes they did it even if I complied, just because they could. I guess they just wanted to hear me scream.  I thought it was just their way of making sure…that I conformed…stayed loyal but Steve told me…and what I remember now, it was because I kept trying to break free of their protocols.” His voice fades away completely as he stares at nothing in particular, his eyes becoming vacant for a moment.

“No matter how many times they did that to you, you still did, you still broke free.” Alex murmurs to him. Bucky blinks as he slowly turns his head and looks at her once more but he doesn’t say anything in return. Just looks at her.

“That strength of character, the fact that deep inside you’re still a good man, no matter what you believe of yourself, that part of you tried to fight its way through every single time,” she continues. “Maybe Hydra feared that the most about you, why they controlled you like they did, or at least why they tried to.”

He still doesn’t answer but she hears him sigh, a thin trembling expulsion of air. She leans against him then, resting her head against his shoulder and is glad that he doesn’t flinch or move away from her. “At least that’s what I think.” She lifts her head and she looks at him again.

“Yeah, but what they left behind…I’m a shell, Alex. They wiped me and they wiped me and at the end there was nothing left. You saw that the day we met.”  His eyes scan her face, watching her, assessing her reaction.

“You’re recovering, Bucky. I can see it….”

“I want you to know what you’re getting yourself into, Alex,” he interrupts. “Helping me those four days five years ago is something completely different to now. Back then I was… _addled_. Now… maybe not so much but I’m not without my…”

“Complications?” she fills in.

“Yeah.”

“I like complicated. I like you, there’s a correlation somewhere don’t you think?” She smiles somewhat mischievously at him but he doesn’t smile back.

“You shouldn’t be so glib. You might not like it three or four months down the line.”

It’s Alex’s turn to sigh.

“There you go again, second guessing me again.”

“I just want you to get the full picture, that’s all,” he exhales and sees her slowly shake her head.

“No, what you’re trying to do, yet again, is scare me away and it didn’t work before and it won’t work now.” She holds his gaze and she offers him a soft smile.

“I’m under no illusions Bucky. What we’re going to do is see where this thing takes us and enjoy the journey, storms and all. I don’t want you to second guess either me or yourself. You _can_ do this and you’re worthy of it, no matter what you might think or tell yourself.” She leans forwards and steals a tender kiss, a gentle pressure that makes his heart skip a beat, his eyes drift briefly shut at the contact. They blink open when she moves away and he sees the warmth in her blue eyes.

“Now drink your coffee Buck.”


	3. Trust.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The subject is trust. He needs to be able to trust to be able to take the next step in their relationship but is Bucky ready?  
> There's added Bucky and Baby sweetness included as well as Protector Bucky. Long chapter.

**Trust.**

He hears the uproar as he parks his bike. He removes the crash helmet, pulling his fingers through his hair and he listens. He can hear loud voices, people yelling something he can’t quite make out amidst the melee and as he concentrates and sharpens his attention, he hears something else; the sound of flesh hitting flesh, the sharp clatter of something or maybe someone hitting something metal. Curiosity overcomes him as he climbs off his bike, shrugging off his backpack, dropping it down in the space between his bike and the wall. He makes his way further down the alleyway to the source of the noise and to the more open space behind the bar. The same space where Alex came across him five and a half years before.

He sees the group of teenagers clustered together; tall, gangly and half grown. All arms and legs, they don’t see him heading towards them, their collective attention focused solely on something, _someone_ pressed against the brick wall instead. Bucky catches a glimpse of black curly hair, a pale face and a bloody nose as he moves quickly, almost silently, grabbing the shoulders of some of the kids on the outer edges of the crowd and hauling them out of his way, shouldering his way through the rest of them. One by one they fall silent at the sight of him. Maybe they see something in the expression on his face as he forces his way through. He sees a tall kid with red hair in front of him with his hand around the dark haired boy’s throat, holding him up against the wall, his right arm raised, hand clenched in a fist, poised to strike. The ringleader Bucky guesses and he reacts automatically, grabs that upraised arm and wrenches it behind his back and sends a single warning look to the kid on his left who takes a step towards him and the kid sensibly freezes.  He watches how the red haired boy tenses in shock, sees his eyes go wide with surprise and that he releases his grip on the smaller boy. He tries to turn in his direction to see who has hold of him more clearly but Bucky applies a little more pressure and puts his left hand between his shoulders and he pushes him forwards. He sees the black haired kid swiftly move out of the way as Bucky pushes his tormentor up against the wall and keeps him steady. The boy struggles but Bucky holds him firm. Around him the noise dies away completely and nobody moves.

“Who the hell are you?” the red haired teen wheezes.

 Bucky leans in.

“I could ask you the same question, punk,” he murmurs back to him.

“You…you can’t do this!” the boy squeaks and Bucky sees that his eyes are wide with a mixture of fear and outrage.

“Says who, you? You’re here with your gang, he’s alone. You just had your hand around that boy’s throat. He’s smaller than you and you’re smaller than me. I think that makes us even.” He looks across to the black haired kid who is further along the wall, watching him with wide scared eyes. Now that he thinks about it, he looks vaguely familiar.

“You okay kid?” he asks him. Sees him nod rapidly, eyes still wide and then swipe at his bloody nose. Then Bucky recognises him; it’s Mary’s son, Joey. Bucky then returns his attention back to his tormentor.

“If I see you around here again, if I hear that you’ve been hassling the kid at all, here or at school then I’ll come find you and believe me, you don’t want that to happen. You forget he ever existed, you and all your buddies. You hear me?” He waits and then subtly tightens his grip on the tormentor’s arm that’s pinned behind his back, forcing it a little further up and feels him tense up and try to swallow down the grunt of pain the movement causes. Sees him nod almost frantically.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you,” Bucky demands.

“I said, okay!”

Bucky slowly loosens his grip but doesn’t let go of him completely.

“I think you should apologise to Joey too, don’t you?” He looks back across to Joey who sees him still staring at him with wide shocked eyes. Watches the tormentor look his way and the shock dissipates. Bucky hears the mumbled apology and then let’s go of him, shoving him away from him. The red head slowly turns his head and observes Bucky who just smiles back coldly.

“Is that supposed to intimidate me kid? Trust me, I’ve dealt with much worse. Get outta here.”

“You’ll get yours,” his adversary hisses once he’s a safer distance away.

This time Bucky chuckles, rolls his eyes and shakes his head, turning away.

“Heard that one too, from people much worse than you’ll ever be,” he answers.

“Watch out!” Joey’s voice is high pitched, panicky and Bucky reacts. He turns his head and sees the flash of silver and he lifts his left arm across his face and feels the blade rip into the jacket sleeve and go no further, hears the scrape of metal against metal. He lowers the arm and with his right hand grabs a handful of the kid’s shirt, lifts him clean off his feet and turns, slamming him back up against the wall. The knife clatters to the ground and the kid stares at him, eyes wide again. Bucky fully recognises the _‘oh shit’ l_ ook on his face and that his show of bravado has failed spectacularly. He holds him steady, knowing his feet are at least two inches off the ground.

“Well that was pretty stupid dontcha think? You coulda just walked away and all of this woulda been forgotten. I really don’t wanna get the cops involved but it doesn’t mean that I won’t.” His blue grey eyes are blazing, intense.

“But you were lucky, all you did was try to ruin my favourite jacket. Idiot, you’re gonna get yourself seriously hurt if you walk around armed like that.” He loosens his grip and lowers him to his feet and sees how the kid’s knees briefly buckle before he straightens. “Now get outta here.” He deliberately steps on the blade and watches the kid scramble away, quickly followed by his gang. Bucky doesn’t move; he watches them all leave and doesn’t say a word until they’re out of sight. He then looks at Joey who is still in the same place, pressed up against the wall.

“Thanks for the warning.” He takes his foot off the blade and picks it up. He looks at it and smiles to himself. A glorified pen knife. He sighs and lifts the lid of one of the dumpsters and throws it in. Turns to look back at Joey to see that he still hasn’t moved. He then reaches into the pocket of his jacket and takes out a white cotton handkerchief which he holds out to him.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” he reassures him in a low voice and just watches him, the handkerchief still in his hand.

 A moment passes before Joey accepts it.

“And I can imagine you don’t want your mom to see that,” Bucky indicates the bloody nose and watches as he dabs at it. Joey then shakes his head.

“What was all that about?” he then asks, shaking his head as Joey holds out the handkerchief to him.

“I asked Jennifer Brown to the Hallowe’en dance,” Joey begins.

“And who’s she?”

Sees the faint smile of pride that crosses the younger boy’s face.  “The most popular girl in my class,” he tells him and Bucky raises both eyebrows.

“And she said yes?”

Joey nods. “She did. Mickey didn’t like it. He wanted to take her but I asked her first.”

“Mickey? The kid with the pig sticker?”

Joey nods once more. Bucky smiles in response.

“Well wow kid, way to go,” he murmurs and sees Joey’s shy smile. 

“I know you…you’re Alex’s boyfriend…Bucky. I mean…Mr Barnes,” he stutters.

“Just Bucky is fine and you’re Mary’s boy, Joey. Nice to properly meet you. You goin’ inside?”

“Yeah. I got homework and Connor said he’d help me in his break.”

It’s then Bucky sees the backpack on the ground beside the dumpster and he goes to it, picking it up and he hands it to him.

“We’ll go in by the front door, give you another coupla minutes to tidy yourself up,” Bucky suggests and sees Joey glance down at his dusty jeans and rumpled jacket and t-shirt and he watches him straighten himself up. Joey looks up at him.

“Can I ask you something?” he begins as they begin to walk back along the alley to the main street.

“Sure…”

“The way you handled Mickey… Aunt Alex said you were in the military once upon a time… you know how to look after yourself. Could you… _would_ you be willing to…teach me some…moves? So I can better look after myself?” he stutters out and Bucky’s eyes widen in mild surprise.

“Sure kid, but your mom and Connor need to be okay with it.”

“She will be. I remember how she was when my…when Frankie hurt her… I wanted to help her but I was too scared and too…little. I know Connor is okay, that he’ll never hurt her but still…” His words taper off and Bucky pauses and Joey does likewise.

“Your stepdad, he’s a good guy. Not all guys are like Frankie but I understand your reasons why. Talk to your mom and to Connor and if they’re okay with the idea then sure, we can figure something out.” His mind begins to whirr with the possibility of the idea. Maybe he could take him to the complex, use their facilities and in the process he could rope Steve into it. He’s more at ease with the kids than he is. He sees Joey smile up at him and he slowly smiles back.

“Come on. I’ll just say we bumped into each other on the street.” He pats Joey’s shoulder and they turn and head towards the street, on the way, Bucky pauses beside his bike and he retrieves his backpack that he stowed between the bike and the wall and out of immediate sight and he slings it across one shoulder.

“You won’t tell my mom what happened back there will you?” Joey asks. Bucky glances at him.

“Not if you don’t want me to but if you want me to help show you how to look after yourself then you’re gonna have to tell her why. I think she’d appreciate the honesty.” He hears his disconsolate sigh and he gently squeezes his shoulder in the way Steve often does to him. “C’mon, let’s get you inside.”

* * *

 

The interior of the bar is quiet. Bucky knows that things will begin to gear up again for the evening in a couple of hours. He ushers Joey in ahead of him and watches him head towards the bar. He follows at a slower pace and watches as Callum comes around and smiles lazily at the young boy and then points in the direction of the kitchen. Bucky pauses by the bar and then turns his head and sees Alex head his way. She isn’t alone, she’s carrying a baby in her arms and for a brief second his heart hitches in his chest. He approaches them, looking down at the infant. She’s awake, staring up him with wide dark brown eyes. Her cheeks are rosy red, her chin damp. Bucky looks at Alex, who nurses her with obvious experience.

“Connor brought Molly with him so Mary could get some sleep. Little one’s teething and keeping mommy and daddy awake most nights so I’m taking care of her for a little while to give Connor some breathing space,” she explains and between them Molly gives an unhappy whimper. Alex manoeuvres her so that she’s more upright and leaning against her shoulder. Bucky regards her for a moment before he returns his attention to Alex.

“That’s okay,” he answers and she looks his way and she smiles. He lowers his head and gently kisses her, seeing how, once he draws back, she bites her lip as she smiles once more and he feels the impact of her smile like a punch to the gut. Her smile always manages to do that to him.

“How was the mission?” she enquires as she shifts the little girl to a more comfortable position, placing a hand against her back.

“It went. No complications,” Bucky replies.

“How long will you be in town?”

Bucky returns his attention to the baby and just shrugs. He could be free for days or weeks or he could be called back in tomorrow, he never knows for sure. He reaches out with his left hand and traces one finger gently over the curve of Molly’s cheek and she turns in his direction and up at him and she stares at him for a moment before offering him a wide smile and he sees the little white teeth beginning to poke through pinkish red baby gums. He slowly smiles in response then looks back at Alex.

“Is it okay if I wash up at your place?” he asks.

“You know it is. I won’t be long, this one is tired even though she’s fighting it and her travel crib is in my bedroom, I’m gonna see if she’ll take a nap.”

He sees the faint shadows beneath her eyes “You look like you could do with a nap yourself,” he comments and she shakes her head.

“I’m just out of practice looking after this little one but I might if you join me?” she suggests and waits for his response.

“Sounds like it could be a plan,” he murmurs back and lowers his head and kisses her again. He feels Molly’s head bump against his chest and he looks at her as he draws back and is rewarded with another smile.

“I’m thinking Miss Molly likes you,” Alex comments but Bucky doesn’t respond.

“See you upstairs soon?” he asks instead and Alex nods and watches him walk away and head up the stairs.  Once out of sight she looks down at Molly who still stares up the staircase.

“It’s the eyes right? You like Bucky’s pretty blue eyes,” she tells her.

Molly looks at her and she grins. Alex laughs and rolls her eyes.

“It figures,” she mutters.

* * *

 

His muscles are aching, he realises, as he lowers his back pack onto the floor beside Alex’s bed. Returning from the last mission, he gave himself enough time to change out of his tactical gear and into jeans, a t-shirt, hoodie and leather jacket before packing a change of clothes and heading out, commandeering the bike before anyone else can lay claim to it, wanting to be out of there, away from work and all that comes with it and just see Alex, be with her.

It’s been four months, almost five since he showed up at the bar and laid himself bare to her. He sees her as often as he can, stays in contact with phone calls and texts. There have been times where talking to her on the phone late at night has helped soothe him into a full night’s sleep which is a miracle in itself. Their dates have been informal; sitting in the park with coffee and just talking, going to quiet places for dinner or lunch. He hasn’t been brave enough just yet to venture into a cinema or anywhere with an abundance of noise or music just yet but maybe in the future they can try. She’s been so careful not to push him too far, to not make demands of him, to not poke something too hard in case of triggers. It’s as though she has a second sense about stuff like that and given what she does outside of the bar, what she went through when she worked at the hospital, maybe she does.

They haven’t had sex yet. He still isn’t completely ready to take that important step and he knows there’s a limit to Alex’s patience. He’s still getting used to being touched with anything close to affection and he has days where he can’t stand to be held or stroked or caressed. He feels miserable when that happens, for himself and for Alex because he knows it’s her natural instinct to want to comfort. Most days he’s fine when she touches his face, his neck, his hands and his arms but anywhere lower than his shoulders still has the propensity to send red alert panic messages to his brain, threatening to shut him down completely so for now they just kiss and hug and he knows she isn’t completely happy with it, not that she’s told him as much but he can tell. She can only wait for so long. He sighs raggedly and heads to the bathroom. He’s tired, hence all of the self-recrimination and introspection. Maybe he’ll be able to grab some sleep and he’ll feel better when he wakes up.

* * *

 

He emerges from the bathroom when he hears the door open. He pauses in the doorway and he listens, every sense on alert and relaxes when he hears Alex’s quiet voice, she’s murmuring to someone and as he listens, he realises she’s talking to the baby. A moment later he sees her and he watches her come towards him.

“Molly quit fighting, she’s finally asleep,” she murmurs to him and then goes into his arms, wrapping her arms around his waist and she rests her head against his shoulder for a moment before looking at him.

“You look worn out,” she comments and he widens his eyes.

“I don’t see you for two weeks and that’s the best you can do?” he replies. He watches how she smiles.

“But you do. Have you had any sleep since you came off mission?” she enquires, straightening up and taking a step away from him and sees him shake his head.

“I guess I just wanted to see you, spend some time with you,” he confesses and sees her cheeks blush pink at his words and the faint smile that accompanies it.

“Tough mission?” she asks, keeping her voice low and as she expects, he gives a single shouldered shrug, a code she’s deciphered as meaning that he doesn’t really want to go into details. She reaches for his hand and takes it and she leads him into the kitchen.

“Take a seat,” she tells him, indicating one of the stools and she hears him sigh.

“Alex, how many times do I have to tell you that you don’t have to keep feedin’ me or makin’ me tea…”

“That’s not what I’m gonna do. Take a seat Bucky,” she murmurs and watches as he does and he looks at her as if to say _what now?_

“Do you trust me?” she asks, still keeping her voice quiet and his eyes widen slightly. “It’s not a trick question baby, do you trust me?” she continues. He swallows and then gives a little nod and then watches as she goes to stand behind him and he automatically tenses when he feels her rest both hands on his shoulders.

“No you don’t, not completely and that’s fine. Trust takes time to build into something solid but you trust me as much as you trust anyone right now and that’s okay too.” Her voice is still low and he wonders what it is she’s going to do. His heart flutters a warning in his chest.

Then he feels her left hand gently smooth over the curve of his left metal shoulder, the palm flattening over the smooth plates, fingertips sliding beneath the cuff of his t-shirt and his stomach gives a twitch when he feels them drift upwards to where flesh and metal merge, where the scar tissue puckers at the join. Her right hand is equally gentle as it slides along the length of his right shoulder to where it begins to curve and then she slowly brings both hands closer to his neck and he feels her grip tighten very slightly, her thumbs digging into tense flesh and moving in small concentrated circles.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” she murmurs close to his ear as her thumbs and fingers dig into tight muscle, “and I know that’s it’s difficult for you to get used to being touched like this but I promise you it will help you. You never know, you might even enjoy it.” Her voice is quiet, intimate and doesn’t raise a notch. He feels his breath catch in the back of his throat as he feels her fingers press and massage the muscle of his right shoulder. She pauses and then slides her hands up the sides of his neck, upwards to the nape, sliding through his hair in carefully gentle movements. He closes his eyes and quietly sighs out any residual tension and drops his head down so that his chin is almost resting on his chest.

“If you want me to stop then I will, just tell me.” Her voice is still low but he barely hears it above the pounding in his chest, the sound of blood rushing through his ears. He slowly inhales and battles against the familiar red alert mayday signals that his body is sending his brain. He can’t succumb to this, not again. He doesn’t want to. He inhales again, slowly counting in his head and then he gently exhales. If Alex knows what he’s doing then she isn’t showing any awareness of it but he’s aware of her hands sliding downwards, below his shoulder blades and he quietly groans at the sensation of her thumbs digging into over taut muscle.

“You like that?” she murmurs and after a moment he nods. He can feel a strange lassitude invade him, flowing through his body like warm honey. He does. The mayday signals seem to fade and instead his mind is filled with the sensation of how good this is making him feel.  For a moment or two he just enjoys what she’s doing, taking it at face value and that the tight knots that have taken up residence are unravelling and in their stead filling him with a sensation of incredible lethargy. He feels her hands slide up the length of his back and it sends a delicious shiver along his spine. He reaches for her hands when they rest on his shoulders once more and he gently draws her around him so that she stands in front of him, between his thighs. For a moment he just stares up at her and slides his right arm around her waist and he draws her up against him. She rests her hands on his shoulders and looks down at him, into his blue grey eyes. She then dips her head and she kisses him. It’s soft, careful and she feels his hand resting on the small of her back as he responds. She lifts her hands to frame his face as one kiss becomes another. She feels his hand slide beneath the hem of her t-shirt but stay at the small of her back, the skin warm, almost hot against her own and he gently urges her closer to him. She does so, her upper body pressed up against his and she can feel his arousal. Slowly they separate, their mouths barely an inch apart and Alex’s eyes slowly open and focus somewhat drowsily on his.

“You okay?” she whispers. He stares up at her for a second and then he nods. His left hand comes up and slides up to cup the back of her head and he’s guiding her down again and the moment his mouth touches hers again, she’s lost.

* * *

 

The atmosphere heats up between them and all Alex can think of is getting him into bed. He’s aroused, his kisses becoming bolder, his flesh and blood hand sliding slowly up the length of her spine. She wants this, she wants him and she thinks this might be the right time to make that suggestion to go somewhere a little more comfortable and they can take this further. She aches for him, craves that extra intimacy and her patience is hanging on by the thinnest of threads.

And then her phone buzzes in the back pocket of her jeans, loud and impatient and Bucky freezes. Alex briefly closes her eyes as he pulls his mouth away from hers and her phone buzzes again.

“You’d better answer that,” he tells her, his voice low and husky. Alex draws back a little bit and looks into his blue eyes.

“I could just ignore it?” She’s really tempted to. This has been the furthest she’s got with Bucky without him withdrawing and she’s so turned on and also frustrated that she could scream.

“But you won’t…and you shouldn’t.” He reaches behind and she feels him pull the phone out.  “Because it’s Callum.” He hands the still buzzing phone to her and she just looks at him for a long moment before stepping away from him and answering it. He stays where he is and takes slow deep breaths, watching her as she walks away from him. Once she’s out of sight, he closes his eyes and slowly fills his lungs, willing his body back under control again.

His eyes open when he hears her come back into the kitchen. He turns in his seat and watches her approach him.

“One of the waitresses has called in sick so I’m needed downstairs. Will you be okay with Molly up here? She’s still asleep and will probably nap for another hour. If it’s gonna be a problem I can take her down with me, her stroller is in the dining area, she’ll sleep okay in there.”

Bucky shakes his head. “No, she’s fine here.”  He sees how her eyes widen in mild surprise.

“If you’re sure?”

“I’m sure. Go to work, I’ll be here when you get back,” he tells her.

Once more she steps between his thighs and for a long moment looks into his eyes once more.

“Okay. Any problems then text me, okay?”

Bucky just nods. His eyes slide shut as she touches his face once more and then kisses him again.

* * *

 

He didn’t realise he’d been sleeping until the sound of a cry pulls him awake. He comes to stretched out on the sofa and momentarily freezes, every sense on alert. He hears the sound again and then realises that it’s the baby. Molly. He frowns, taking in his surroundings. The room is in deep shadow and his eyes take in the room, he’s looking for something, he doesn’t know what but when the baby gives a more strident cry, he sits up. There’s a lamp on an end table beside one of the armchairs. He leans forward and switches it on just as Molly’s cries become a little louder, more demanding and his heart judders in his chest at the clamorous noise.

“Okay…I’m comin’, hold your horses,” he murmurs under his breath as he slowly gets to his feet and approaches the travel crib. He remembers checking on her before settling on the sofa and seeing her fast asleep, on her back, tiny fists at either side of her head and now he can see that she’s wide awake, staring around herself with wide brown eyes. She turns her head in Bucky’s direction and stares up at him.

“Hey peanut,” he murmurs, looking down. She continues to stare at him and then all of a sudden she smiles at him as if recognising him. She begins to wave her arms and kick her legs and Bucky stares down at her. He turns away, intending to sit back down and pauses when the baby gives a whine. He turns back and sees the glassy tears that have swelled in her eyes.

“What’s wrong honey?” he asks and he feels vaguely silly talking to an infant who hasn’t figured out how to talk and won’t for a while yet. Molly gives another whimper and Bucky regards her and gives a shaky smile.

“I’m not good with kids your size honey seein’ the size you are and all. Last time I held someone your size, your mama’s mama probably hadn’t been born yet,” he confesses and he sees how her bottom lip begins to stick out and more tears fill her eyes.

He rolls his eyes in response.

“Okay but don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he mutters and after wiping his palm against his thighs, he leans in and with trepidation, scoops the little girl up. He rests her in the crook of his right arm, making sure that her head and neck are supported and looks down at her, ignoring the fluttering of nerves that he feels in the pit of his stomach. He carries her back to the couch and lowers himself down onto it, arranging her more comfortably in the crook of his elbow. He gently traces the curve of one pink cheek with his left hand and his eyes widen when she grabs onto one of the fingers and chomps down on it.

“Oh hey I don’t think that’s a good idea baby,” he tells her in a low voice but she ignores him, chewing down on the finger. It feels a little weird to him; he can sense the pressure applied but it doesn’t hurt as his left hand, arm and shoulder are constructed entirely of vibranium, pain only registers on an extreme level and then it isn’t like physical pain he would feel in his right. He just watches her as she gnaws. She’s teething, judging by her apple red cheeks and excess drooling but right now she isn’t bawling. Maybe chowing down on the metal is helping in that respect. A faint smile lifts the corner of his mouth as he continues to observe her. Maybe there can be a decent use for this thing after all.

* * *

 

Alex smiles when she sees Mary come into the bar. Offers her a quick one armed hug and indicates the kitchen.

“Joey’s doing homework in the kitchen, Connor is at the bar and Molly is asleep in my apartment with Bucky for company,” she tells her. She sees how Mary’s eyes widen with surprise.

“Molly is with _Bucky_?” she all but exclaims.

“They’re fine, just sharing space. She’s sleeping otherwise I would’ve heard from Bucky by now. We can go upstairs and check on them if you want?” she suggests as they begin to walk.

“Sure. You okay?” Mary then enquires and Alex stares back at her in surprise.

“I’m fine, why do you ask?”

Mary gives a little shrug. “No real reason apart from being a little…distracted.”

“I’m busy, that’ll be why,” Alex replies and Mary gives her a knowing look.

“You forget who you’re talking to. You handle this place like water off a duck’s back but you’re distracted tonight. Is it because Bucky’s here?”

“And why would that be a reason?”

“Because he’s up there and you’re down here.” Mary looks over her shoulder at Callum, Connor, her eyes obviously looking for someone else. “Where’s Melissa?” She looks back at Alex.

“Called in sick,” Alex answers.

“You’ve been on your feet all day and you’ve been taking care of Molly for me.”

“Well Connor did most of that, I just took up the slack now and then.” They begin to head towards the kitchen.

“And Bucky is back from mission and you wanted some alone time with him,” Mary guesses and Alex shrugs.

“We had a kind of break through earlier, he let me give him a shoulder rub,” she confesses and Mary’s eyes widened.

“He did? That’s really good!”

Alex gives a small sigh of dissatisfaction.

“It’s been almost five months Mary, “she whispers, her voice trailing guiltily away and her friend regards her with sympathy.

“Do you know how long it was before I let Connor kiss me? Six months. It was another six before I let him go any further than that and up to then, I was convinced every single day that he was going to give up and leave me. I was constantly amazed that he stuck by me, never mind asked me to marry him, I still am today. Bucky will know how you’re feeling, it will be all that he’s aware of and believe me, he’ll want to but you have to be patient. I know it’s not what you want to hear but it’s the truth. To trust you to that level takes massive amounts of courage for him. Believe me, I know.”  Mary reaches for her, squeezing her shoulder.

“He’s not like other guys Alex and because of that you have to be extremely patient and understanding. What you’ve told me about him and from what I’ve read, what he went through was hell plain and simple. He was horribly abused and while some do recover, others never do. I know that it’s tough but I also know how much you like him and believe me, when he takes that final step with you and is completely comfortable with you touching him, kissing him, holding him then it will be worth every single moment.” Mary’s eyes are wide and Alex sighs and then draws her into a hug.

“You are wise beyond your years Mary. I guess you’ve had to be but your insight is invaluable and appreciated.” She hears Mary chuckle against her ear as they separate.

“Then let’s go check on my son and rescue my youngest daughter from your boyfriend,” she tells her and they head into the kitchen.

* * *

 

“Oh my God,” Mary whispers in disbelief. Beside her Alex just stares.

“Ditto,” she murmurs unable to tear her eyes away from the sofa.

Bucky is stretched out on the sofa, his head and shoulders resting against the arm and he is sleeping but that isn’t what holds both women transfixed. It’s the sight of Molly also fast asleep against his right shoulder and an empty formula bottle is resting against Bucky’s left hip. The women exchange a look.

“He fed Molly?” Mary whispers.

“I guess so,” Alex murmurs back.

“Did you know he could do that?”

Alex slowly shakes her head. She didn’t.

Alex slowly approaches the couch, noticing how protectively he cradles the baby and she pauses when Molly begins to move which in turn wakes Bucky up. His eyes slowly blink open and he looks down at the baby first before looking at Alex and offers her a somewhat sleepy half smile.

“Hey,” he murmurs. He watches as she moves closer to him and picks up the baby bottle and she holds it up. He gives her a wider more awake smile as he begins to sit up, holding Molly securely against him. He looks up as Mary appears beside Alex and lifts the baby off his shoulder and cradles her against her own. Bucky looks down and sees the damp patch on his t-shirt before he looks back at the women.

“You could’ve let me know Molly was hungry,” Alex reminds him. She takes a half step back as Bucky gets to his feet and stretches his spine.

“I guessed you’d be busy and we figured it out. I just knew to warm the bottle and make sure the formula wasn’t too hot. She seemed happy with it. She’ll probably need a diaper change though, I wasn’t brave enough to tackle that,” he replies.  He sees how both women look at him. “What?”

“Thank you Bucky,” Mary tells him and Alex sees how a faint blush rises in his face, how he looks away.

“I was happy to help out. She seemed to like my left hand,” he lifts it, the metal gleaming in the lamplight. “I guess it was good and cold on her gums,” he continues shrugging.

“Bet that surprised you,” Alex comments and he looks at her and smiles faintly.

“A little but it was okay.” He looks at the prosthetic and Alex can almost read his thoughts, that it has its uses other than as a weapon.

* * *

 

The bar is closed for the night, the ground floor dark in shadow. For a moment Alex listens to the silence before turning, flicking off the last light and heading up the stairs. She passes Callum’s door and hears the muffled sound of late night television. She smiles absently to herself as she heads to the second staircase and climbs up it and unlocks her door and slides through.

“Hey,” Bucky greets, emerging from the kitchen area. She pauses, watching him approach. He looks so good in faded blue jeans and a blue t-shirt that matches his eyes. He smiles at her as he approaches. “Did Connor and Mary and the kids get off home okay?”

Alex nods as she goes further into the living room area and she drops her key down onto the end table by one of the armchairs. She turns her head and she looks at him.

“Yeah. Joey told me a very interesting story about how you came to his rescue in the alley earlier today.”

Bucky goes still for a second and looks at her, obviously trying to gauge her reaction. He slowly shrugs.

“Kid was gettin’ picked on. You know I don’t like bullies.”

“He told his mom and Connor what happened and that he wants you to show him some self-defence moves.”

“And what did they say to that?”

“That they’d think about it. You’re in Mary’s permanent good books anyway for helping take care of Molly so she’ll probably agree to it. You make a commitment to Joey, you’re gonna have to keep to it,” she reminds him.

“I know and I’ll be good for it, when work doesn’t interfere, was thinkin’ of askin’ Steve to get involved too.” He sees how Alex’s eyes brighten.

“Joey would love that, getting self-defence lessons from Captain America himself,” she replies with a faint smile.  He shrugs again and watches as she turns away from him and she kicks off her shoes.

“God I’m exhausted, today has been a long day,” she sighs as she pulls the hair tie out of the bottom of her braid and unfastens it. Bucky watches the curtain of light blonde hair slowly be revealed to him. It’s almost waist length now and there’s a gleam to it that catches the light. She turns her head and she looks at him.

“Do you want to stay tonight?” she asks and after a moment Bucky nods. He watches as she walks towards him and smiles at him. She gently places her hand in the centre of his chest and gives him a soft kiss before lowering her hand.

“I’m going to grab my pyjamas and change,” she tells him and as she turns to grab them from her bed, Bucky reaches out and grasps her wrist, halting her in her trip. She looks over her shoulder at him and he gently tugs her back to him. Kisses her, his right hand threading through her long hair, feeling the silky strands slide through his fingers as he cups the back of her head. Feels her hands on his chest once more and instead of anxiety flooding his system, he becomes aware of something else.

Lust. Longing.

_Oh thank God for that._

God it’s been such a long time in coming. Not that he hasn’t been in this position before with Alex because he has. No, the difference is that there’s no residual anxiety on the horizon threatening to spoil things before they begin to get really interesting.

He wants things to get interesting. He’s ready for it to happen.

He feels himself moving backwards, propelled by Alex who is trading kiss for kiss with him with a desperation that suggests to him that she’s waited long enough and is expecting recompense.

His back hits the wall beside the door with a thump and at the same time his eyes open as their lips separate. She stares at him with wide blue eyes and he can see the breath heaving in her chest, how pink her lips are, the patches of colour on her cheeks. Feels his own heart pick up a beat as she bites her bottom lip as she regards him.

“Do you trust me?” she whispers and he swallows and then nods a little frantically, wondering what she’s going to do next. His body quivers with anticipation as well as a little bit of fear. She grabs a handful of his t-shirt as she moves in for another kiss and for another moment he’s lost in her again. She pulls back and his eyes flutter open again. She then peels the t-shirt over his head and drops it on the floor by his feet. He doesn’t move but his heart is thundering so loud in his chest that he’s sure she can hear it too.

His eyes slide shut once more when he feels her mouth against the underside of his jaw, hot and sweet. He slowly swallows again but still doesn’t dare move.

Her mouth moves downwards over pectoral muscles, gently licking the skin, leaving behind gentle kisses while a hand gently skates over his metal prosthesis. He bites his lip and quietly gasps as she goes lower, over his ribs, his flat stomach and he briefly tenses when he feels her fingers trace over the exposed skin down to the waistband of his jeans and then pause. He keeps still, pressing himself up against the wall, hands curled into tight fists. His head thumps quietly against the plaster board. He can feel sweat on his brow and he’s so unbelievably turned on right now. He feels his hips jerk against her hand when he feels her cup him, caress him.

“Do you want me to stop?” she asks and he tears his eyes open and he looks down at her, slightly dazed, to see her kneeling in front of him. They widen slightly and his heart gives an almighty leap when he realises her intent and he takes a deep breath.

“No…” he hisses and his eyes shut again when he feels her fingers at the button. Unfastens it. Slowly draws the zipper down. It sounds so loud to him. His heart is racing as he feels her tug the denim down a little and she’s stroking him through the fabric of his boxers and he bites down on his lip harder and prays that he doesn’t cum before it starts to get really interesting because right now it’s very much a possibility. She peels down his underwear, pressing a kiss against the skin just below his belly button and he feels himself spring free.

“Jesus…” he whispers and he chances another look just as she gently grasps hold of him, slowly, carefully pumping the base which makes him arch his spine just a little and he swallows down a growl as she opens her mouth. He holds his breath as anticipation and wonderment at how it will feel hold him hostage. His hips twitch and a quiet gasp escapes his throat when he feels her tongue tease the tip of him, drawing a wet circle around the head. His breath shudders out of his lungs as his eyes slide shut once more and he wills himself not to cum even though he feels perilously close. He reminds himself that this isn’t his first rodeo, that he does have control, that he possesses absolute control and that Alex will stop the moment he asks her to, but Jesus it’s been so long. He takes a deep breath and then hisses out another sigh as she takes him into her mouth and his head thumps gently against the wall once again.

He doesn’t want her to stop. Not now. Not ever.

Oh dear God. It feels….it feels exquisite. His eyes open and almost roll up inside of his head at the warm wet heat that surrounds him, feels how her tongue caresses the length of him and he carefully rolls his hips against the sensation, feeling his tip hit the back of her throat and _oh God…that’s it_ … he unclenches his fists and touches her head, fingers sliding through her hair as he guides her, hips slowly moving. He looks down and sees her lips working, cheeks hollowed out, eyes shut. Holy fuck it feels so good. Tightens his grip in her hair. Feels the tight ball of tension that sits low in his stomach begin to unfurl.

“Alex…God… Alex I’m gonna….” he wheezes, eyes sliding shut as he recognises the age old sensation beginning to unfold and fill him. Squashes down the feeling of panic that’s threatening on the side lines. It doesn’t deter her, in fact if anything, her movements become bolder and his breathing shortens as he feels his release edge ever closer.

“Oh God…Alex…oh God…oh God…oh God…” His voice is low, thick, slurred. His grip tightens slightly in her hair and he gasps and swears as he cums, his hips jerking. The strength of it robs him of the ability to think, breathe, to speak and he swears that he sees stars exploding behind his eyelids. Her name is a sharp inhalation of breath, a strangled gasp as she swallows him down and eventually, finally he’s done. His heart is still bouncing like a trampoline in his chest as she releases him, presses another kiss on his lower stomach. He doesn’t think his knees will support his weight as she gets to her feet, wiping at her mouth.

 “Oh Jesus,” he whispers as she looks at him. Her answering smile is gentle yet knowing and he draws her into his arms, gently kisses her and hugs her close.

“Did you like that?” she asks him, her voice muffled against his throat.

He struggles to speak, swallowing a couple of times before realising that yes, his voice still does work.

“God, yes,” he confesses.

And then he waits for his heartbeat to slow down.  

 

 

 


	4. Breakdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of a nightmare. Alex tries to get Bucky to talk about it.

Another bad night.

Another early morning.

Bright outside, washing the room in a soft paler light.

She sees him curled up on the sofa at the bottom of the bed, arms wrapped around folded up knees and he’s staring into nothing but she can tell that there’s something going on behind those eyes of his. From the dusty greyish shadows that hollow out each socket to the over brightness that tarnishes the blue. He’s reliving the nightmare that hauled him screaming out of the oblivion that was his sleep. The nightmare he can’t or won’t share with her. She suspects that it’s the latter.

She knows because she’s been there.

She won’t prod him; she’s learned that to do that only succeeds into making him withdraw all the more. He’s talented at locking himself away in that cell he calls his memories. Fractured and whole ones. How long he keeps himself captive in there depends on how bad the nightmare was. It can be minutes, it can be hours and it can be days. She can’t predict. Even now she can’t and so she leaves him be.

Right now terror holds him mute and she wishes for the day when he will deem her trustworthy enough to let them spill out, to let her share in the pain, to help lance it and allow it to drain but they’re not there yet.  She doesn’t know if that will ever happen. When she’s feeling confident, she thinks that perhaps he might but at her worst she fears that he never will.

She gets out of bed and walks towards him and as she does, she pulls the blanket that drapes the bottom of her bed into her hands He’s tucked into the corner of the sofa,  holding himself slightly forward, rigid and deathly still apart from the subtle trembling she can see in his shoulders and the way he holds his head. He doesn’t look at her when she slowly sits down beside him and she’s careful to leave a gap between them even though what she longs to do the most is wrap her arms around him and hold him close.

 He won’t let her though so she doesn’t and the blanket sits on her lap.

* * *

 

She places the tea cup beside him and retakes her seat, holding her own carefully as she tucks her feet beneath her. The room is silent apart from his quiet ragged breathing. She quietly blows on the surface of her tea before taking that all important first sip.

Time ebbs and flows and fades away.

She doesn’t speak as she carefully places the soft blanket around his shoulders, tucking it gently in front of him. Then she reclaims her tea cup as well as her corner of the sofa and watches him.  His expression is still so blank, so utterly lost and something twists in the region of her heart at the sight of it. She takes a silent deep breath and licks her bottom lip. She needs to speak, to say something to him, to let him know at least that she’s there because she isn’t sure that he’s aware that she is.

“Hey.” Her voice is husky, dry in the silence. She sees the subtle stiffening of his spine and she realises that her guess was correct, he wasn’t aware. So completely trapped in his prison cell.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks him, keeping her voice just above a whisper. She can all but see the fine hairs lifting on his skin. He’s fine tuning, remembering where he is, connecting back into his surroundings again.

Silence blankets them as she waits for his answer, if he will say anything at all, that is.

“No.” His reply is just as quiet, a bare expulsion of breath on the air and she ignores the sharp nip of disappointment that scratches at her skin.

“It could help,” she offers again and once again she waits, fingers gripping the porcelain of her cup, ignoring the burn bleaching through.

He still doesn’t look in her direction but at least he’s acknowledged her.

“Won’t.”

She wants to remind him that he won’t know unless he tries but doesn’t. He’s only ever hinted at the horrors he’s gone through, a whispered late night confession that he really wasn’t aware he was making. Telling her about a machine that wiped his memories, did it over and over again. It’s a miracle he’s still in one piece physically though emotionally, mentally that’s a completely different story. 

“I made you some tea, it’s beside you on the end table. It’ll help to soothe you.”

He doesn’t move. He looks as though he’s ready to disappear back into that world again, the one he won’t let her into. She puts her own cup on the second end table beside the paperback that keeps her company most nights and she bridges that small gap on the sofa towards him. Stretches an arm across the back of the cushions and gently rests her hand between his shoulder blades, skin against skin where the blanket has slid down and she looks at the dark brown hair that tangles against the back of his neck. She thinks sometimes she can see a chestnut cast to it when the light hits it a certain way. She feels him tense, a subtle shift in muscle tension. It should be a warning to her to withdraw, to leave him be but she doesn’t move. Waits for him to tell her to leave him alone instead.

He doesn’t.

“I hope that one day you’ll let me in, Bucky. I hope you’ll feel brave enough to share with me what’s going on inside of your head. I promise you that when you’re ready, I’ll listen.”

Slowly he turns his head and he looks at her.

“You’ve told me about the machine. You told me about how Hydra controlled you and why and the reason why you no longer like thunderstorms,” she continues.

“That’s just the surface.” His voice is gravelly, dry as dust but he’s louder this time. A little angrier.

“Then let me in.”

“Why? Do you think you can help me? People more qualified than you have tried. People closer to me have failed. What makes you think you’re so special?” he snaps. She blinks at his words, at their brutal honesty and tries to ignore the pain that lances through her at their muscle.

“I don’t think I’m special at all,” she tells him. “But right now you’re getting angry and that’s a positive thing.”

“Is it? Because to me anger means a loss of control and that’s never a good idea.”

“I disagree because if you lose control then whatever it is that you’re trying to contain inside of you will break free….”

“And do what? Cleanse me? Save me? _Cure_ me?” he rudely interrupts.  “What if I hurt you? What if it’s worse?”

She sees how his eyes flash, that temper very close to the surface. It scares her but she knows that she can’t back down now, no matter what.

“I want to help you Bucky. I want to at least try,” she whispers.

“But you _can’t!_ ” His retaliation is sharp, some of that anger breaking free of its bindings. She almost hears the _‘no one can,'_ at the end of it.

His eyes glow in their intensity as he glares at her.

“That’s what you don’t understand Alex. Any loss of control for me can be dangerous. People have died, blood has been spilled. I don’t want to hurt anyone ever again. I can’t. I won’t.”

“So you’re just going to let this consume you? Nightmares, insomnia, disconnection. You’re going to live with it, let it eat you alive, is that it? Have you decided that it’s going to be your punishment?”

“What’s the alternative? I warned you about this. You told me that you could cope because you help people and that you understood. Did you think that this was make believe? Did you think you could _save_ me?” His tone becomes scathing, blistering in its heat. He snarls at her but she can see the pain in his eyes, the tears that are gathered at the edges.

“No. I thought I could help because I know a little of what you’re going through,” she replies, hearing the defensiveness in her voice.

“You don’t know _anything_ of what I’m going through,” he sneers at her.

“Because you won’t talk to me, you won’t share it with me or anyone else. You want to get better, you’ve told me that and the first step towards that is to open that door just a tiny crack and let someone else in, let someone else see it.”

“I _can’t_ ,” he tells her through clenched teeth and she sees a couple of those tears leak out.

“Because you’re terrified that if you start talking then you won’t be able to stop? Good. Let it all out. I’ll listen to it. I’ll listen to every damn word until you’re empty, til you’re spent, however long it takes.”

More tears are falling now. It seems once they’ve started that they won’t stop and his face crumples in abject pain. She continues to look at him, swallowing against the lump in her own throat swelling at the look on his face, at how he’s suffering.

“If you think I’ll be horrified, I might be but what I won’t do is judge you. Think of me as a conduit, someone to talk at, yell at, scream at if it’ll make you feel better.”

“I can’t do that to you,” he whispers shakily, seemingly horrified by that very idea.

“Yeah you can.” She moves her hand from between his shoulder blades to around his shoulders. “Yeah you can.” She begins to draw him against her. He resists for a moment and then softens, lets himself lean against her. She rests her cheek against the top of his head, feeling the softness of his hair and she slowly strokes his right shoulder above the blanket that still drapes him. Holds him close to her while he allows it.

“Tell me what you were dreaming about,” she whispers.


	5. Storm.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex is with Bucky when a storm rolls in.

**Storm.**

Fatigue weighs him down today.

It invades, infiltrates and threatens to overwhelm.  It clouds his mind and holds him captive. He slowly rolls onto his side and curls himself up into a ball. He wants to be small, invisible, make barely an impression on the mattress beneath him. He wants to fade away, vanish and never be seen again. He wants to be free of the dark clouds, to be able to smile and not feel the crippling sense of guilt that always follows the moment he allows himself to feel remotely happy.

While the trigger words may have been eradicated, may not be able to hold their power over him anymore, nothing will release him from the guilt that’s been left behind. Nothing will erase the feeling that plagues him. The blurred faces that surround him when he dreams or even when he doesn’t. They’re always there, on the fringes. They filter through but he doesn’t remember their names. He’s never been able to remember the names of those whose lives he ruthlessly snuffed out. He never sees their faces with any clarity, but they’re there; glimmers, impressions of horror that haunt him, that constantly remind him that he’s a murderer, an executioner. No matter the circumstances, the explanations, the excuses; he has taken lives and he can’t forgive himself for that.

He’ll never forgive himself for what he’s done.

And so he lives with it. Or he tries to.

Some days he manages to. Others not so much.

Today threatens to be a not so much kinda day.

He slowly pulls the blankets over his head, cocooning himself into the shadows, allowing himself to believe for that moment in time that he’s safe in here. That nothing and no one can find him or hurt him. The old childish belief that’s ridiculous in adulthood holds fast right now. Rationally, he knows that the barrier that separates him from the outside is flimsy, easily split with the sharp blade of truth. God knows he’s done it himself in the wretched past but right now it’s his fortress from the outside world, his protection. However thin, however tenuous.

He goes still when he hears the sound of a door gently closing and feels the prickle of awareness that sparks down the back of his neck and between his shoulder blades as he listens. He hears the calm whoosh of regular unhurried breathing, almost silent footsteps padding his way. His eyes go wide when the mattress gives beneath the weight of a body and the alarm jump starts his central nervous system. He yanks the blankets away and stares wide eyed at…

Alex. It’s Alex and she’s staring back at him, equally taken by surprise.

“Hey. It’s just me.” She keeps her voice low, the tone deliberately gentle. For a moment he just stares at her, his brain initially refusing to engage, to recognise but finally, eventually it does and he allows himself to relax, to soften tense muscles, to feel the fear begin to leech away.

“Alex,” he whispers.

* * *

 

She stares at him in discomfort. For a moment there, she saw the empty expression on his face and she knew that for a single long moment he hadn’t known who she was. When she’d slipped out of bed to go to the bathroom, he’d been asleep, finally drifting off just before dawn. Before that he’d been fine, content to scoop her closer to him, her head resting against his chest where she could hear the slow steady thrum of his heartbeat. She’d drifted in and out of slumber, each time she surfaced he’d been awake, quiet, comforting but the last time she woke, when the sky outside was beginning to pinken, she noticed that he was finally asleep. He hadn’t even stirred when she’d climbed out of bed but obviously he had in the meantime, ending up curled up in a tight ball beneath the blankets.

“Hey,” she repeats and she carefully slides back into bed, her eyes never leaving his. “Bad dream?”

“Somethin’ like that,” he mumbles and sits up, the sheets falling to his waist. Rubs at his face with one hand.

She’s careful to keep her distance. It’s been a little while since she’s seen that confused, scrambled expression on his face. Five years ago to be precise, when he first arrived in her life. The first couple of days his expression was just like this, blank, a little confused, struggling to understand, comprehend who he was, where he was.

_“My name is Bu… Bucky…”_

Even the way he’d introduced himself to her was unsure, as if testing the name out loud to himself.

Right now her instinct is to go to him, to offer comfort but she knows that if she did then there’s a very real possibility he’ll lash out.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks instead. He watches her for a second or two and then quickly shakes his head. She’s not surprised he’s refused, his secrets are locked tightly inside of him and only he has the key.

“I could make us some tea?”

Around the edges of the blinds that cover the windows she can see the brighter pink of an approaching dawn. Once more Bucky shakes his head. His breathing has changed a little, become a little more laboured, she can see the faint sheen of perspiration on his brow. He’s anxious and she senses panic is nearby.

 A low deep rumble seems to echo through the building that makes them both look upwards. Alex looks back at Bucky and sees how both hands grip the blanket that covers him, tightly, the knuckles of his right hand turning white.  Her stomach begins to churn when she realises what the sound is.

Thunder. He doesn’t like thunderstorms. She remembers his confession in the park as all of sudden a flash of brilliant white light illuminates the edges of the blinds.  Beside her Bucky flinches, his eyes going wide. She shuffles closer to him and she takes his right hand and his eyes slide to hers and she sees the fear beginning to emerge.

“We can do this,” she tells him and tightens her grip. With her other hand she she slides it across him, her palm resting gently on his metal shoulder and she’s urging him to lie down. Slowly he does, his eyes never leaving her face.

“Trust me,” she whispers and he goes rigid as another flash of that bright light bleeds around the edges of the blinds once more. She lies down with him, lying on her side and she carefully guides him onto his side. She pulls her pillow nearer to his and moves closer to him until their bodies are touching and she can feel the warm, sticky heat of his skin. Gently she draws the blankets over their heads and he lets her. She can hear his breathing, how it heaves a little in his chest and as she presses her body up against his, she can hear the frantic heavy pound of his heart against her own.  He remains rigidly still as she wraps her right arm around him and she guides his head down to her chest, beneath her chin. He goes without resistance but she can feel the dread vibrate through him.

“You’re safe,” she whispers to him as she slides her hand up from between his shoulder blades to the back of his head. “You’re not alone. Just breathe,” she murmurs and closes her eyes and listens to his panicked breathing. “Just breathe.”

She continues to slowly stroke his hair, feeling how he trembles against her with each flash of lightning even from underneath the blankets and the slow rumble of thunder that accompanies it. She can hear the rain ricochet against the window panes in all its fury and as she does, she carefully tightens her hold on him. Eventually his left arm slides around her waist and he holds her close to him, his legs tangling with hers as if trying to physically connect to her, lose himself in her. Slowly the tension begins to leave him and she hears how his breathing begins to change. The fear that held him captive slowly bleeds out of him and his muscles soften and she knows that he’s sliding into sleep of some kind. Finally he leans against her, a heavy weight and she can feel his warm breath against the curve of her shoulder as she slides down a little, the blankets still shrouding them from the outside, embracing them both in an ethereal world. Her eyes slide shut as she hears the storm begin to roll away, the rain the only witness to the melee.

* * *

 

She slowly emerges from the mists of sleep when she feels him slowly move against her and as her eyes drift open she realises that she’s rolled over and she’s facing away from him and he’s pressed up against the length of her spine, a warm, immovable weight. His left arm is still wrapped around her waist, holding her against him and she can feel his face pressed against her hair, against the curve of her shoulder, his breath warm against the skin. Her heartbeat hitches and her stomach dips a little when she feels his hand slide beneath the material of her sleep shirt, the metal cool against heated skin and she feels it slowly move upwards to cover a breast. He gently squeezes, the thumb stroking over the nipple with a deliberate, curious slowness that makes her sigh and press back against him and she feels the heavy weight of his erection against the curve of her ass. That hand slides downwards this time, gently over her stomach, leaving a chilly little trail in its wake as it dips beneath the waistband of her sleep shorts and at the same time she feels him press a warm open mouthed kiss against the curve of flesh he’s exposed by pulling her hair away with his other hand. This time she moans quietly and opens her legs to allow him access and he slides his fingers into her folds, the tip of one finger drifting over her clit, circling it before sliding down and into her and her moan is louder as he slowly strokes her. She feels another kiss, hears his heavy breathing, how he whispers her name with a quiet entreaty and she pushes her ass into his crotch again and hears his quiet moan in response.

He rolls her onto her stomach and she goes willingly, eagerly, pulling her sleep shorts down and off. Her body throbs in protest as he pulls his fingers out of her as he helps her take them off and he winds his right arm across her hips, lifting her, spreading her knees, getting her read. Then he’s inside of her, sliding all the way in and for a moment they’re both still. Adjusting. He’s hard, thick and heavy and he fills every part of her. She’s ready for him, accommodating him, clenching her inner muscles around him, bracing her hands on the pillow and she waits.

He slowly begins to pull out and she whimpers against the gentle friction it creates until he’s almost all the way out. Then he slides back in and she moans, her breath catching again as he pulls out once more. For a little while he’s in control, keeping the rhythm slow and steady but he doesn’t make a sound, apart from hearing his breath catch as he leans over her, his left hand sliding between her thighs, seeking that bundle of nerves once again. His right hand grips onto the curve of her hip as his rhythm changes and he thrusts harder and she hears him now, no words, just moaning, grunting as he drives her closer to orgasm. She can feel it dancing along the edges of her conscience, perilously close, every nerve ending stretching and tingling in readiness just waiting. Sweat dampens her skin and she hears him hiss as he lets go of her hip and winds his fingers in her hair and gently tugs, drawing her head back. She whispers his name, telling him how close she is to coming. Once more he slides his right arm across her hips and he’s lifting her, leaning back at the same time, still inside of her, until she’s a little more upright. His left arm is gently braced across her shoulders, holding her steady. For a moment they’re still and she can feel her core tense and trembling, just ready. He lifts her very slightly and thrusts, using his superior strength as he flexes his hips up and hears her little whimper before he does it again, a little harder, a little more demanding, the movements tight and at the same time she leans back against his body, feeling the heat of flesh and the coolness of metal. His right hand slips down to the apex of her thighs and once more he finds her clit, the nub slick and taut and ready for him. He applies the gentlest of pressure, using two fingers as he keeps up the rhythm of his thrusts, hearing her moan, her hips beginning to move in unison. His left hand slides down to cover one breast and he uses his thumb once more to tease the nipple, his mouth at the slope of her shoulder.

Hot. Wet. Breathing ragged.

Control beginning to slide.

Let’s go. Pushes her back on her hands and knees again. Thrusts hard. Hand between her legs, seeking. Finding.

She calls out his name as she feels herself begin to cum, the movement of her hips becoming less controlled at the sensation that engulfs her, the pure pleasure that pours through her body. Hears the hiss of his breath as he continues to stroke her clit, her inner walls throbbing against his cock. Then he holds her still against him for a second, still rubbing her and her eyes go wide, still coming hard. Her spine arches and after a moment she feels him go motionless, feels the fingers of his left hand dig into her hip, hears his gasp, his exclamation and he curses as he begins to empty himself into her. Feels him spasm deep within her. Holds her against him as he cums, gently massaging her clit, bringing her down.

He’s breathing heavily as he slides out of her now the storm has passed and the sweat begins to cool on their skin. Alex lies down on her stomach, her body still reacting, still twitching a little, still throbbing, little thunderbolts of pleasure dancing across her skin and the most intimate parts of her. Muscles aching. Bucky lies down beside her and then rolls onto his side to face her once more and pulls her back into his arms, resting his head on her chest, pressing kisses against her breasts, the heat of his tongue dancing across the nipples, licking the sweat from her skin and she can’t move even though once more her body begins to react to him. Instead she wraps her arms around him, warm salty skin pressed together, their legs and limbs tangled, breath heaving in lungs but feeling utterly sated. He lifts his head and looks into her eyes. His smile, when it comes, is slow but she isn’t really fooled by it, it doesn’t go near his eyes. Whatever mood gripped him earlier, it still holds him hostage now but she makes herself smile at him and draw him close once more.

 


End file.
